#please forgive the presumption

[photozoi]

Yes, but....  Her Majesty!!! I mean, really!

Video Games: Fun For the Whole Family

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 51

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: 50 chapters?!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You cross your arms, trying to comfort yourself as you wait. The front door opens and the only harbinger of your visitors are their footsteps. The grim pall of the house swallows them up as they shuffle over the doormat.

You don’t look over as their figures appear as shadowy blurs in the edge of your vision. You’re too humiliated to face your guests. Not truly yours, but Loki’s. Like everything else; this house, the very couch you sit on, the clothes you wear. Isn’t that what he’d only just berated you for? Taking it all so ungratefully.

“Darling,” Frigga’s the first to speak as she approaches, almost sheepishly, “my, I’d say it’s lovely to see you both but you look dreadful.”

You wince as she nears and shrink down, bending your legs as you long to curl into a ball. You hug your knees and curl your shoulders. She hovers over you, turning to speak to the others.

“You must open the curtains, it’s awfully gloomy in here,” she demands.

Loki mutters but at a grunt from his father, he acquisces. You stare at the black pants as he tears open the drapes, the rod ringing with his efforts. Another figure looms close. Odin shifts and places his hand on the armrest behind your shoulders.

“I see all is in a state of fine order,” Odin proclaims dryly, “you have this poor thing hanging from the troughs–”

“Father,” Loki sneers as he faces the room again. He steps forward, trying to tidy his wild curls, made even more defiant by his neglect. You notice his attire; his shirt is untucked and clashes with his tan trousers. “I will not be lectured.”

“Oh, dear, look at her face,” Frigga lowers herself to sit on the edge of the sofa and touches your arm kindly, “her dressings need changing.”

You avert your eyes and bite down on your cheek. You’d almost forgotten your nose and the peeling bandages. All that wasn’t as dire as the walls.

“Mm, and that isn’t my fault, mother. It isn’t I who would injure her thus. Rather your golden child,” Loki spits. “If you’ve come to argue the point further, I haven’t the time to hear it.”

“Son,” Odin girds, “do not rile yourself with presumptions. We’ve come to make sure you are well, as any decent parents might.”

“Hm, because you’ve always been so eager to visit, father,” he scoffs.

“Eh, Loki,” Frigga squeezes your arm before she stands again, “we thought to share some news to you. In person as it were. You wouldn’t answer the phone but we do believe you deserve to have it straight from us.”

“Oh, what is it now? Are we celebrating the solstice?” Loki folds his arms and lifts his chin, “you can check us off as not attending, thank you.”

“Now, don’t be an ass,” Odin growls, “if you would hear us, you might not have the urge.”

“Why should I listen to you, eh? Did you listen to me? Did you hear me when I walked in bruised to the gills? Did you hear me over that lout’s lies?” Loki snarls, “you made no move to stop me going but here you are, pouting and begging forgiveness. 

“Well, let me make it clear, you and that cretin you call your eldest son, will not entangle yourselves in another of my marriages. It will not happen. I told you that morning and I meant it. He is no brother of mine and if you continue to pander to his misdeeds, then you will count yourself two children, not three.”

You tweak a brow and tilt your head as his rant swirls over you. Marriage? Surely, he only misspoke.

“Would you listen?” Odin’s voice booms, echoing around the room as he steps around the couch and punches his palm. “We do count only two children; you and Hela.”

“Right,” Loki says unconvinced, “certainly, you will do your best not to let me share a table with him again. We can pretend nothing happened. That he did not accost my wife. Just as before, it is under the carpet as we stomp it into submission.”

“Wife?” Frigga murmurs in confusion and glances at you. You feel her gaze but don’t meet it. You’re just as confused.

“I mean it,” Odin insists and turns to look at you, “I am ashamed that my son would hurt you, dear. Brute as he is, I cast him out. He is banned from the house and wiped from my ledgers. Should you wish it, I would gladly testify to his guilt.”

You don’t reply. Which son does he mean? The one who chased you through the night or the one locking you in the dark?

“Thor is not welcome in this family anymore. If you hadn’t run away…” Odin faces Loki again.

“Oh, forgive me for my skepticism, father,” Loki grimaces, “you’ve not exactly earned a lot of trust from me–”

“Nor you me,” Odin counters.

“You never gave me a chance,” Loki hisses, “very well then, thank you, oh, great father, for practising an ounce of good judgment.”

“Boy,” Odin wags his finger at his son as he steps closer.

“Boy?” Loki exclaims, “get out. Now.”

“Loki,” Frigga screeches, “enough. We’ve come all the way here to apologise to you and… her, and you are being insensible. Would you hear us?”

Loki rolls his eyes. He keeps one arm across his chest and bends the other to flutter his fingers dismissively, “you kept him in my life. You begged me to look past his slights for years and refused to see them until someone got hurt.”

“Yes, we were neglectful. Willfully blind,” Frigga says sadly, peeking back at you, “seeing you that morning, and now, the bruises, and her… we… we are very sorry and we can understand that it might be too late for all this but we only want to be heard.”

Loki is quiet, roiling as he breathes loudly. He swallows and sniffs, “yes, you should look at her and see what he did to her.” His lip twitches, “and if I had not been there, imagine what he would have done–”

You close your eyes as you feel a weight over you, feel the suffocating heat, hear Thor’s sinister tone, ‘little maid’.

“Stop!” You throw your hands up as your eyes snap open, “please stop, I don’t want to think about it.”

“Oh, dear,” Frigga spins and once more rests herself on the couch’s edge, “you don’t have to. Please, you’re safe. He won’t bother you again. I’ll be sure of it.”

You knot your fingers together and twist until your knuckles hurt. You can’t look at her, at any of them. You shake your head and shrug.

“As you can see, she is not ready for company,” Loki asserts.

“What I see is she’s being shrouded away in this crypt,” Frigga rebuffs, “she requires sunshine. She needs healing, not paranoia.”

“You don’t know what we’ve been through,” Loki accuses, “how can you know what she needs?”

“I have eyes,” Frigga snips, “darling,” she speaks to you, “would you like some tea in the garden? Just you, I wouldn’t want to infringe.”

You gulp and rub your neck. You nod, “yes.”

“See?” Frigga pets your knee kindly before she stands again, “I won’t tread upon your toes, son, you get her the tea and see her to the garden.” She sidles aside to stand with her husband, “and then you will explain to me this whole marriage business.”

You glance over at Loki, the same question nipping at your ears. Was he confused? Why did he say all that? Marriage, wife? No, prisoner and warden, that’s what it truly is.

✨

Slowly the doom recedes. The warmth of the sun beams down as you keep your finger hooked in the handle of the tea cup. You let the steaming brew go cold as your eyes devour the scenery. The greens, the violets, the indigos, and pinks. Colours all around.

You suck in deep breaths of the spring air, tasting the last dregs of dew and the floating pollen. You hear the council of sparrows hiding in the bushes and watch the pair of doves bobbing across the grass. Bees buzz between the blooming stems and insects flit back and forth through the air. The seasonal renewal is underway as a whole new world awakens.

Beneath the serenity, there is fear. This won’t last. This is just a brief respite from your desolation. A flicker of light in the dark.

So you bask in it as much as you can, for as long as you can. You can’t help but peek over at the french doors and wonder about what’s happening behind them. What is being said? Are Frigga and Odin still there? Is Loki still angry?

You cup your chin and take a sip. This is all you ever wanted. You only wish he would have listened to you. Why must someone else talk sense into him? Why can’t he just hear you?

Your vision hazes as you drift into the peaceful hue. The spring swallows you up and mutes your worries. You cling to that moment, knowing the end will come sooner than later.

The doors open and pierce the spring soliloquy. You look over as Loki steps out. His shirt is tucked in and he’s tried to comb his hair. Still, he looks out of sorts. His eyes are circled darkly and his cheek tics as his jaw clenches.

He watches you as he nears the table, standing across from you as he extends his long fingers to the iron surface. He takes a breath and looks around. He retracts his hand to rest on the back of the chair.

“May I?” He asks.

His request surprises you. That he would even want permission. After all, this is his home, all of this is allotted to you at his whim.

“Sure,” you sit back and let go of the teacup.

He drags the chair out and lowers himself. He bends his arms over the table and his head swivels again, as if searching for something. He clears his throat and turns straight. He stares at you as you peer down at the table.

“It’s beautiful out,” he comments, “the tulips are coming in.”

You nod, “yeah, they’re pretty.”

He exhales and shifts in the chair. He taps his fingertips then weaves his fingers through each other. He stills his fidgeting.

“How is your tea?”

You look down at the cup, mostly untouched. You raise your eyes to meet him and purse your lips.

“It’s fine,” you answer, “what’s going on?”

He circles his thumbs around each other and pushes his shoulders up before forcing the tension out, “I thought I would… come enjoy the garden with you, pet.”

“Oh,” you utter.

“Oh,” he echoes staunchly. “Unless, I am disturbing you?”

You shake your head, “I thought you wanted me to go inside…”

He frowns and lowers his chin, “I…” he begins then unclasps his hands and sits straight. He rests his elbows on the armrests and his cheek strains, “I want you to be safe.”

You nod and look at your lap as you think, “your parents said Thor is gone.”

“Yes, so he has been cast out. For how long, I can’t be certain,” he sighs, “but he is not my only worry.”

“What else—”

“If I’d not discovered your escape, you would’ve fallen and hurt yourself worse.”

“Loki, I… I’m sorry but I couldn’t–”

“And you do not eat when I bring you food. You hardly sleep.”

“What about you?” You toss back as you raise your head.

His lips thin, “yes, what about me. I am just as guilty in all this, I see that now.”

You’re quiet as you consider his admission. It’s a rare moment. Not exactly victory, but a consolation. As much as you can hope for.

“I appreciate all you have done but I… don’t want to be a burden anymore,” you say, “if that’s how you feel about me, I think we’d both be better off if I left.”

He goes rigid and his throat tightens, “pet…”

“Or maybe I could just be the maid again. We could go back to that. That would be okay.”

He huffs and hangs his head. He brings his fingertips together as he seems to argue with himself. Slowly, he lifts his head, “no, that simply won’t do.”

Your face falls, “please don’t lock me up again.”

Your eyes gloss as you pout, begging him wordlessly. He winces as his mouth slants, one way then the other. He mulls on your plea.

He tilts his head one way then the other, stretching out his neck. He slips his elbows off the armrest and grips the chair, pushing himself to his feet. He rolls his shoulders straight and rounds the table. He stops beside you and lowers himself down to a knee. You watch him, confused.

He takes your hand and draws it over the side of the chair. He holds it in his, stroking it as he peers up at you.

“You cannot be a burden or the maid, and you certainly may not leave,” he says, “you are going to be my wife.”

You blink. You’re not sure you heard him right. He squeezes your hand and you look down at his grip.

“Loki?” You babble.

“I haven’t picked a ring, I’m sorry,” he pulls your hand to him, leaning in to kiss it, petting it, “but perhaps you might help in that.” He puts his other knee down and moves even closer, “we will have a lot of planning to do, won’t we, darling?”

He angles to lean his head against your arm, keeping his hand on yours. You’re paralysed. He’s proposing to you but there isn’t any room for your rejection. Like all other things, it’s a command. You have to keep yourself from answering, ‘yes, Mr. Laufeyson.’

You look down at his dark tresses and let out the breath racked beneath your ribs, “I’ve never been to a wedding.” The statement is hollow and numb. You don’t know what else to say.

He chuckles and lifts his head to grin up at you, “well, how exciting that you’re first will be your own.”

[maximotts]

i feel like cowboy wanda would be so gentle the first few times she has sex with you bc she’s worried she’ll hurt you and scare you off but eventually she loses control a bit and manhandles you into position and when she pins you down, you moan and then the most DEVILISH smile spreads across her face

Ooo okay okay it's interesting you brought this up because I've been thinking about their first encounter a bit lately! We'll ignore that this turned into a whole fic, okay? I love them sm Also this isn't really edited because it was supposed to be a short answer and now it's uhm.. not short, so forgive any typos

18+ only please . wc: 2.7k . cw: first meeting hookup, drinking, dirty talk, oral, fingering, v light spanking, lap sits, possessiveness, Wanda being smitten, the pickup truck sex a lot of y'all have been asking me about that I said was coming, morning after with Wanda because she's as proper as she is filthy

Basically right now I have their first time more as a hookup where bunny is new to town and goes out to a bar one night to maybe make friends and see the environment, but then she meets Wanda and her group of friends who are all more than welcoming and you're having a great time hanging out with them.

But your eyes keep drifting to Wanda. Of course Wanda notices and, being the smooth talker she is, starts flirting with the new girl. She buys you as many drinks as you want which, end up being stronger than you're used to, but your nerves keep you ordering more. When she finally slips an arm around you, cornering you in the booth you'd only just plopped yourself into, you're more than ready for Wanda to kiss you— and kiss you she does.

You're shy by nature, never having made out with anyone in a bar, much less with a girl you'd only known for a few hours, but Wanda's thumb brushing over your cheek while she bites down on your bottom lip has you forgetting everything you're used to which admittedly, isn't much. Somehow she's pulled your thighs over her own, toying with the stretchy hem of the form-fitting skirt you'd decided to wear last minute. When she touches a particularly sensitive spot, you shiver and Wanda chuckles, "You cold, darlin'? Pretty as your arms are, I'll let you borrow my jacket if it'd help."

And so the night goes on with Wanda's thick denim jacket slung over your shoulders, her arm around your waist wherever the two of you walk. Normally you'd hate the presumptive way the cowgirl was handling you, as if she owned you already, but you'd be damned if you didn't admit you wanted her to stake her claim. So, in your slightly inebriated state, you took a leap, "Wands, I'm sleepy..."

Which catches her attention immediately. "Well now," Wanda pulls you close then, fingers carefully treading the line between caressing your hip and groping your ass; it would be the first time she whispers in your ear, but it'll never stop being insanely hot. "I hope you're telling me because you're going to let me take you home. I'd be real sad leaving tonight without you."

You wish your giggle of a reply didn't sound so girlish and naïve, but in hindsight, you had no idea the sheer intensity you were in for. "Only if you promise to behave yourself."

—

She's driven about halfway back to her house before she has to pull over; technically it was her land, pulled over to the side of the winding road and turning her truck engine off. "I know I promised to take you home, I still will, but I can't take another second not having my hands on you."

It takes you back a little; all you'd been doing was scratching over her jeans while you stared at the woman driving, but you weren't going to argue with her. "I don't really-"

"I've wanted you on my lap since I laid eyes on you. Get over here." Thankfully she doesn't have to convince you any farther, holding back a groan as you straddled her legs, skirt riding up inch by inch. It was a tight squeeze with you between her and the steering wheel, but Wanda hardly noticed once you started kissing her. This time was impossibly hotter, Wanda's tongue taking control of the kiss before moving on to shamelessly leave marks along your jaw and neck.

And Wanda is too good at getting your clothes out of the way, leaving you topless with record speed, squeezing at your breasts roughly while you struggled just to keep up with her mouth. "What if someone sees..."

The brunette only starts toying with your nipples, relishing in the way it got you rolling your hips. "It's pitch dark, silly girl. I can barely see you out here, don't worry your pretty little head."

You lost the last bit of your restraint the moment Wanda passed her fingertips over your underwear. They were thin lace, chosen by design so as not to show under your skirt, but they drove Wanda wild. She pushed them aside to slide her fingers along where you were already warm and sensitive, hips stuttering as she stroked over your clit. "O-Oh.."

"Look at you, already wet and needy. Were you like this all night? That why I caught you squeezing your thighs together so often?" You shook your head, trying to deny it, but you weren't even fooling yourself.

Wanda's had you rocking in place for hours by this point; you thought sure you'd been subtle and being called out for your behavior found your head ducking into the crook of Wanda's shoulder to avoid her knowing gaze. "Aww, it's okay! It'll be our little secret, promise..."

Wanda discovered night one what a responsive person you were, delighting in the vice grip you held on the back of her seat while she rolled your nipple in time with her other hand on your sensitive bud. You rocked against her hands as best you could, fighting to keep pace, but hopefully not finish so easily— it'd just been so long and you needed this much more than expected.

The next morning, you'd blame the alcohol. "Wanda please, I- I need.."

"What do you need, sweetheart, wanna cum? Make a mess in my truck after I barely got started with you?" You were nodding so hard your neck hurt, moaning quietly as you felt your body reach its peak; the first of many that night. Ears ringing and thoughts so pleasantly fuzzy, you couldn't recall a time you'd felt more free, in an old pickup truck or otherwise.

"Ooh, aren't you just a masterpiece..." The brunette took her time letting you down, pointer and middle fingers wandering until they just barely pushed into you: less than an inch, but unendingly torturous. "Sounds like I was able to make you feel better, least a little bit."

Tired hips tried every which way to sink onto Wanda's long fingers, the same ones you'd felt on you over your clothes back in the bar and had lists of naughty places you wanted her to put them. But each time, your lover avoids delving anywhere past shallow. "You're being mean, just fuck me."

"Mean? After I let you cum as early as you wanted? You don't know what mean looks like on me. Don't think you want to," A succession of wet slaps echoed in the truck's cabin, the silence of everything around you both amplifying the sound of Wanda lightly hitting your sensitive cunt and your resulting whimpers.

"Told you so. Now, bend over and stay still while I get a proper look like the obedient girl I know you are," Manhandling you over the length of her seats shouldn't have been as easy as it was after the long night out, but Wanda was strong and you never fought her while she pushed your arms to the passenger car door and spread your bent knees apart.

If you were begging her to fuck you out loud, you wouldn't be surprised, wishing so hard that if Wanda still refused to give you exactly what you wanted, she'd at least use her fingers, tongue, anything to fill where you currently felt so empty. "Please- I need more-"

Your thighs shake as she licks over your puffy folds, mumbling the most depraved things about you, your taste, your warmth, leaving you with the most intoxicating combination of feeling both used and adored. "You just keep dripping into my mouth, baby, it's impossible to keep you clean..."

"Can't help it, sorry," But your words aren't matching your actions, not when you kept searching out Wanda's tongue each time she flicked at your clit, pitifully rolling over the rough surface whenever she flattened it out.

You'd long since fogged up the windows, smudging the fog as your overheated cheek met the cold glass; each time you managed to open your eyes you remember exactly where you are, woods rustling in the middle of the night. "W-Wanda! 'm close again, please please...!"

"Mean girls wouldn't let you have two orgasms back to back, no matter how pretty." Wanda likes to believe she actually thought about whether or not to give you what you wanted, but in reality she knew she would leave you wanting the second you turned bratty. Sure it was a risk, not knowing how you'd react, but it was well worth the test to see if you had a chance of handling her past a quick night's distraction. "Straighten up, we're only a few minutes from home."

"That's not fair—"

But Wanda was already pushing you upright again, haphazardly fixing your dress, going so far as to buckle your seatbelt as if it'd keep you from your uncomfortable wiggling. "My car my rules! Like I said, we're not far."

Wanda expected you to pout and huff the whole way, worried in the back of her mind you wouldn't let her lay another hand on you after her denial, but she was pleasantly surprised. Somewhere shortly after she pulled back onto the road, you'd taken her hand; first just to play with her fingers, innocent fidgeting at best, but before she knew it, her digits were engulfed in sinfully wet warmth.

Her fingers in your mouth made the pair of you dizzy, hands holding her wrist as you pumped her digits in and out, tongue swirling over the tips and grinning once Wanda's neutral expression cracked, lips parting in a low groan. "Do mean girls let the good ones suck the strap they've been feeling near them all night or do they only get to play with their hands?"

"Depends on if they show them how bad they want it." Wanda could only look your way for seconds at a time, the visual of your half-lidded gaze trained on her jeans while you so obviously used your imagination to envision some other scenario, muffling your own needy sounds as you forced her fingers to the back of your throat... she'd underestimated the new girl.

Whether it was any lingering alcohol talking or whatever boldness Wanda unlocked that night, something urged you to continue goading her, making a show of spreading your legs and slipping her wet fingers to your sex before closing them once more, slowly grinding her shaking digits to sate yourself for that last tiny stretch of road to the farmhouse. "Bad enough to turn your hand into a toy for as long as you let me."

Wanda made that final turn up her driveway, parking her truck fast as she could with only one hand, "You're lucky I didn't crash just now, you little devil, can't wait to get you inside."

"Lead the way, since we're playing by your rules and all." As soon as she got her hand back, Wanda practically dragged you from her vehicle and for as many hours as you spent awake in her home, you couldn't remember a single detail of any room she brought you through that night.

—

When you wake up, it's to a dimly lit bedroom, curtains drawn so only a sliver of late morning sun peeked through. Your body ached, but it wasn't from the drinking, taut muscles and lethargic thoughts bringing back bits and pieces of everything you got up to the second Wanda got you past the front door.

The same Wanda whose bed you assumed you were currently sprawled out in. Doubt crept in as you realized you're alone, fretting over if you should've fallen asleep there or not. You were deciding whether it'd be more awkward to sneak out and go back to town on foot or to search out Wanda and ask if she'd mind driving you back to your place when you heard a single knock on the door. "Can I come in?"

Your brow furrowed, "It's your room, of course you can come in." Wanda cracked the door slowly, the back of her loose flannel shirt greeting you first before she turned around, a small tray in her hands. "Sorry for crashing."

"Never said you were unwelcome, I'm sorry for letting you wake up in a strange place by yourself... and for not leaving you at least a shirt, my bad." Your arms hastily bundled the blankets to cover your chest, your nakedness pointed out to you, but Wanda laughed, setting the tray down before heading for her dresser. "Don't worry, darlin, I love the view just as much in the daylight."

"What a reassuring hostess I have," Pulling the t-shirt she tossed you over your head, the delightful scents coming from the tray down the bed now catching your attention. On it was a short stack of pancakes, bacon, orange juice, strawberries... the biggest breakfast you'd seen since you'd come to town. "Did you make that?"

Wanda nodded and slid the food closer to you before sitting on the edge of her mattress, "I don't typically make this much food, but I had to get up early to make some rounds in the barn and I figured I owed you a hearty breakfast after such a nice night."

There was something so endearing to how she explained her actions, rambling on to offset her nerves, No one had even gone to such lengths to make your morning so comfortable after a single hookup, but this set the bar high for anyone else who tried. Not that you'd ever have to worry about another first night, but neither of you knew that yet.

For now Wanda scrambled to find the right way to show genuine interest in the girl she'd brought home and fucked every which way until they passed out and you amusedly ate your special pancakes while watching Wanda try, her fumbling charming you more than she'd ever imagine.

Eventually you put her out of her misery, putting down your utensils to sit up on your knees and stretch over to plant a quick kiss on her soft lips. "I really appreciate it and I'm not even a bit mad with how I woke up, but it's very sweet of you to care, Wands."

"Oh good because I'd really like to see you again sometime, if you're up for it." It would be a rare thing to see Wanda so continuously shy, but she was uncharacteristically smitten and she wanted to get to know you before the rest of the small town came for their changes too.

You hummed as you popped a strawberry into your mouth, licking your fingers in a way that painfully reminded Wanda of the previous night, "How's today?"

"Today?" The farmgirl ran a hand through her long hair, cocking her head to the side much like a lost puppy.

"Yeah, today. If you wouldn't mind me following along." With each minute that ticked past, the less you wanted to leave, much preferring a Sunday spent with Wanda than in your flat full of moving boxes.

Her eyes lit up, smile brighter than the sun, “Can’t complain about a beautiful girl all to myself all day!" Wanda was practically buzzing with everything she wanted to show you, from the chicken coops to the haylofts, but she forced herself to keep her cool.. on the surface at least. "Finish up breakfast and I'll find you some kind of pants."

"But I'm so cozy right here without them." Maneuvering over the last bits of food on your plate meant you more fell into Wanda's lap than sat on it, but she caught you nonetheless, tugging you down for the proper kiss she'd been waiting to share with you since early morning light. "Come back to bed with me?"

After the long sleep your energy was renewed, finally able to take Wanda into all your senses again, the taste of her lips, the subtle earthy smell from the work she'd already done that day, her strong hands settling confidently on your upper thighs... getting dressed was the last thing on either of your minds. "Wouldn't be much of a hostess if I didn't let my guest do as she pleased."

In the end, the pair of you might've set the world record for longest date from Sunday morning to when Wanda finally dropped a reluctant you back into town Wednesday afternoon.

[hyperactively-me]

regency era!ghost x reader (part 5.5, the letter)

My Dearest Lady,

I pray that you will permit me to trespass upon your time and patience to convey the deepest sentiments of my being. As I sit here, quill in hand, I find myself overwhelmed by the enormity of my sins against you, and I scarcely know where to begin. 

It is with utmost shame and remorse that I recall my conduct towards you since our initial introduction. I have behaved with a rudeness and presumption that are wholly unbecoming of a gentleman, let alone a Duke. I shudder to think of the disdain and hurt I must have caused you with my unkind words and actions. I am acutely aware that my behavior has been unjustifiable, and I am filled with profound regret for every instance in which I have disrespected your dignity and disregarded your autonomy.

I have wrong you grievously, and the realization of my behavior now pierces me with a pain sharper than any sword. I was blind, wholly consumed by my own pride and misplaced sense of superiority. Again, my conduct has been nothing short of deplorable. 

I am unworthy of redemption, this I know. My actions have left indelible scars, and no mere words can ever hope to erase them. Yet, here I am, on my hands and knees, begging for a chance to atone for my sins. I am a man undone, crumbling under the weight of my own guilt.

I have been tormented by the memory of my cruelty and your undeserved suffering. My heart is a tempest, my soul a wasteland, lacking peace until I can make amends. I can no longer bear the weight of my guilt without seeking your forgiveness. 

Please, my lady, grant me the opportunity to atone for my transgressions. I beg of you, allow me the chance to right my wrongs. Allow me to demonstrate my remorse and my earnest desire to make things right. Your forgiveness would be a balm to my troubled heart and a chance to mend the rift I have so thoughtlessly created. I offer you my sincerest apologies as a flawed and fallible man, one who has come to realize the true value of your character and the depth of his own failings. 

If it takes a lifetime, I shall devote myself to proving my repentance, to showing you that I can be a better man, one worthy of the grace and dignity you so effortlessly embody. Your forgiveness is not something I deserve, but it is something I yearn for with every fiber of my being.

I am, and shall remain, your most humble and contrite servant,

Simon Riley, the Duke

part 5 < > part 6

[perrin-aybaras-hammer]

Guess I'm a pussy then

(Dimitry Burmak, wotc, etc etc artist credit pulled from scryfall)

Do a personal ranking of every damage type in dnd 5e

13. Bludgeoning. now this may strike some of you as controversial but here at that-house it's our heartfelt belief that hammers are for pussies

12. Piercing. arrows and spears? also for pussies

10. Poison. if i wanted to Not Deal Damage i'd be healing people. half the statblocks in the game are immune to this shit. hell, half the commoners in the game probably picked up at least a resistance somehow

9. Thunder. what

8. Fire. look, fireball is nice and all but again. i'm here to HURT people. this is DAMAGE types. stop resisting me. places above thunder damage because Meteor Swarm, like the birgus, fucks hard and fast (that's right, i cited my sources. thank you hbomberguy)

7. Cold. A lot like fire, but, strangely, hotter.

6. Acid. What poison wishes it was. like if fire was a juice. Sexy and destructive. oh yeah baby melt the flesh from my bones

5. Lightning. fuck, man, i just really like lightning. it's probably the most used damage type in my campaign, purely by accident. helps that one of the PCs is immune to it, so he gets to feel cool

4. Necrotic. liches are hot. don't question that previous sentence ok. let's move on

3. Radiant. if you're cool, that's nuclear radiation. if you're cooler, that's pure rage, cleansing wrath in damage form. if you're lame it's basically fire damage but borrowed from god, and that's still pretty cool

2. Slashing. Swords are fucking awesome, man. I'm gonna go live by one sure hope nothing bad happens

1. number one... it's gotta be Force babey!!!!!!!! least resisted/immune damage type, eldritch blast, what can't she do? the F in Force Damage stands for "fuckable" and the M in Magic Missile stands for "i'M gonna use a legendary action to magic missile your unconscious body so that you fail three death saves instantly that's right bitch it's force damage time i'm playing hardball"

[thebenjiblackwoodexpress]

Jump then Fall prt.7

𝔇𝔬𝔫'𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔪𝔦𝔩𝔢 𝔞𝔱 𝔪𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔞𝔰𝔨 𝔪𝔢 𝔥𝔬𝔴 ℑ'𝔳𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔢𝔫. 𝔇𝔬𝔫'𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔞𝔶 𝔶𝔬𝔲'𝔳𝔢 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔰𝔢𝔡 𝔪𝔢 𝔦𝔣 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔡𝔬𝔫'𝔱 𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔱 𝔪𝔢 𝔞𝔤𝔞𝔦𝔫

Description: Y/N finds it difficult to stay away from Aeron after receiving his love letters. Aeron prepares to negotiate peace with Benjicot Blackwood in an attempt to end the conflict between their Houses and win his fair lady back to him.

Part 6

Warnings and writer's note: Female reader, swearing, angst with fluff, nauseatingly sweet love letters (Aeron is as per usual just trying his best). References events in The Blackwood Knight by Elizabeth :) References to Persuasion by Jane Austen and The Cruel Prince series by Holly Black.

Y/N had become a ghostly presence haunting her fathers halls. Her grief at Aeron's betrayal and the loss of her love consuming her whole. Each day a raven would arrive for her with another letter from Aeron, and she would read it and read it again until the parchment was crumpled, his words barely legible through the stains of her tears, perched in a window sill overlooking the vast expanse of Bracken lands. Her anger had diminished with each day they spent apart until only a pressing feeling of utter despair remained. Each letter Aeron sent stoked the dying embers of Y/N's belief in his love for her until a spark lit the fire anew. Surely he would not be so persistent and penitent had he never loved her, if he did not love her now?

She found herself daily imagining she would see Aeron walking the path to her father's home from her perch, demanding to see her. Would she be happy or angered by his presumption, she did not know. Her dissapointment that he did not come seemed to confirm the former, and yet she could not fault him for respecting her wishes to keep his distance. And even as she felt herself believing his words, forgiving him and so desiring to grant him her love again, she knew she could not when his marriage to Rosyln Tully was was essential to strengthening his House.

So, in her confusion over her own feelings she spent her days reading Aeron's letters, envisioning his brows drawing together in concentration and wishing to smooth the frown which arose as he considered what words would please her. She felt her heart fill with affection at the thought. She found herself letting out a half-hearted laugh as she pondered that Aeron must have asked Samwell for advice and he would surely have suggested all sorts of crude vulgarities in jest, which Aeron would immediately have rejected in abject horror. His words were too sweet, too soft, too full of adoration to be but his own.

My Darling Lady,

I do not know how to express my adoration for you in words that can be contained within the small form of a letter. I have acted selfishly and injured your heart when it is the dearest and greatest gift. I have so much of you in mine own that the thought of any harm befalling you terrifies me, and yet it is I who have harmed you by my infraction. With this raven fancy that I beg your forgiveness on my knees and write myself as your vassal. Your Knight does humbly ask you to rescind your order to part from your side. 

I urge you to come be angry at a nearer distance,

Your Good knight

His letters had began as fitful explanations of his conduct, of his intentions, each one more pleading than the last.

My Sweet Girl,

I entreat you to believe that there is nothing that I want in all the world but your precious love. For me your every action sets my world alight and recreates it from the flames anew. Your smile ever the brightest, your laugh ever the dearest sound, your kiss ever the sweetest. The world is made colourless by your absence and I am filled once again with admiration for your light, my world so much the darker without it. Even if you do not love me, I could not help being entirely devoted to you. Like a heathen it is your star I worship, not that of the seven.

Most fervently,

Your Good Knight

My Dearest heart,

I am reduced to a being that loves you and can hardly bear to entertain any other thought. I love you when I attend my duties, though I have not the heart for them without yours, I love you when I walk the paths we once trod together. I love you when I notice the golden leaves of our tree turn a deep red with the passage of your absence, and when my mind deigns to grant me rest it is of you and you alone I dream.

Ever Yours,

Your Good Knight

Hearing footsteps and turning to see a messenger approaching, she held the crumpled pieces of parchment to her heart and briefly shut hers eyes tightly to ward off her unspilled tears. "Another raven has come for you from Bracken Hall"

Y/N hastily took the rolled up parchment, ripping it open the moment the messenger turned the corner down the hall. Her eyes scanned the contents frantically and her heart leapt into her throat. His plan to treat with the heir of Raventree was rash, feckless, and sure to place him in danger that sent terror down her spine. And should he fail in his bold scheme she could be no more truly his than she was now. How could she selfishly give her heart to Aeron again when the political ramifications may be dire for his House and the Riverlands without the support of House Tully?

"Still hoping a lightening bolt will strike you down and kill you?"

Samwell waltzed into Aeron's Chambers without invitation, throwing the curtains open to allow some light to enter the room. Aeron lifted his head only slightly from where he'd placed it on his desk. He had yet to hear from Benjicot Blackwood and had heard nothing from his love for more than two torturous weeks.

"I confess I considered striking you down myself when I realised what you'd done you bloody fool. Piteous as you look now my dear fellow, it would be a mercy killing. But you owe it to both Y/N and yourself to fix this. What do you plan to do?" Samwell's tone suddenly turned serious as he pulled up a chair. Aeron sat upright and turned to face his friend.

"I have already done it, or at the very least set my plans in motion. I have sent a letter to Raventree Hall, asking the future Lord Blackwood to treat with me for peace."

Samwell's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "By the seven, I thought you'd turned to madness in your grief. Now I'm certain I was right. The Blackwood and Bracken enmity runs deep my friend."

"I'm aware Samwell. But I have reason to believe The Blackwood heir will be amenable, he is in love with my dear cousin. It would allow us both to marry the ones we love."

"Surely not Edmund?" Aeron shot Samwell a fierce glare at his attempt to jest at such a time and Samwell held his palms up placatingly.

"Right, you must make a success of it then. Does your lady know?"

"I sent a raven yesterday. She has not responded to any of my previous correspondence so I do not expect a reply now, but I still hold hope that if my words will not win her back to me they will help to heal the wounds I have wrought on her heart." Aeron closed his eyes and breathed in sharply, struggling to get his words out as he tried to maintain his composure. A sudden knock at his door sent a jolt through him and had his eyes snapping open to see his cousin Edmund standing sheepishly in the doorway.

Aeron's face contorted in rage. "What do you want?" He had avoided Edmund ever since the banquet, sure he would not be able to control his anger with him for placing more doubt in the mind of his lady all the while aware his anger was misplaced, it had been him who'd sown the seeds of his own destruction. Edmund closed the door behind him before coming to stand in the middle of the room, notably out of Aeron's reach.

"I wish to apologise for my actions in the banquet. In truth my intentions were to warn the lady to avoid her expectations being cruelly dashed should you marry the Tully girl. I see now that I was wrong and you loved her all along. I will help you if I can. I couldn't help but overhear you sent a letter to Raventree."

"Perhaps if you had not been standing silently outside my door" Aeron spoke through gritted teeth, not softened by Edmund's apology as yet.

"What I mean to say is that I have already spoken with Benjicot Blackwood of a potential peace pact when I caught him waiting for our cousin. He is equitable and will want to forge a way forward that will enable him to marry her. Let me join you at the border once you have his reply." Aeron's mouth parted slightly in shock at Edmund's uncharacteristic sincerity and his heart beat wildly in his chest as hope surged in him. If he could pull this off, they could bring peace to the Riverlands and surely Y/N would know that his love for her was true. He'd be changing the very fabric of his lands, the very foundations of his beliefs for her. "So be it, I will send for you when the time comes." Upon his dismissal, Edmund bowed his head respectfully and swiftly vacated Aeron's Chambers, leaving him with a renewed sense of determination.

A raven carried Benjicot Blackwood's acceptance to Aeron's proposed meeting later that day. They would meet at first light on the morrow.

Y/N had not wanted to leave the comfort of her home at all, nevermind go to Bracken Hall and risk bumping into Aeron. She could not trust herself not to just forgive him on the spot and fall into his arms. But her mother had insisted she get some fresh air and meet her father on his way home from council with Lord Bracken. Y/N knew that her mother was concerned about her wellbeing, moping about her fathers halls as she had been doing of late.

The whole journey to Bracken Hall, Y/N had been racked by trepidation and as she entered Aeron's ancestral seat she expected to run into him at every turn. When she reached the corridor which led to the council chamber she breathed a short lived sigh of relief before the object of all her hopes and fears rounded the corner, halting in his step at the sight of her.

With what looked like a concerted effort, Aeron stayed rooted to the spot and came no closer to her, though the slight upturn of his lips at seeing his lady after so long did not escape her. "My lady, can I enquire..."

"Don't, please don't smile or ask after me." She cut him off promptly.

"I do not wish to impose upon you my lady. But may I not at least enquire as to your wellbeing?" 

She did not know if it was the softness of his tone, as if approaching a startled deer, the gentle concern of his questioning, or the tenderness she could see in his eyes that prompted her tears, perhaps a mixture of all three. Tears flowed from her eyes unbidden and so she brought her hands to her face to cover them from Aeron, turning her back to him to ease her embarrassment slightly at falling apart in front of him. "Oh my love" she heard Aeron call to her, followed by brisk steps and the light touch of his hand on her elbow as he gently turned her to face him. He did not make a move to remove her hands from her face and for that she was most grateful.

Instead he placed one arm tentatively about her shoulders, pulling her into him, her head falling into the crook of his neck as he let his fall onto her shoulder. " I should not be leaning on you like this, not anymore" Y/N sniffled. Aeron held her tighter "You can ways lean on me. It matters not if you decide to cast me aside later. I will gladly comfort you if I can." He said nothing more, just holding her until her sniffles dissipated and her breathing had evened out. But he hastily grabbed onto both her elbows in alarm when he felt her weight slump more forcefully onto him as her legs began to give out. Quickly pulling her to sit on the bottom step of the nearby stairwell that led to his Lord Uncle's Council room, he knelt in front of her and looked into her face with concern, searching for any sign of injury.

Y/N was sure that it was just the lack of sleep and food catching up with her, and her emotional distress that had caused the wave of nausea and faintness to wash over her and send her swaying. "Have you been unwell my love?" By the tone of Aeron's voice she was sure she must look wretched, dark circles drawn under her eyes, which were red and raw from her tears. Breathing deeply and trying to calm the butterflies that erupted from his worry for her, Y/N willed herself to speak. "Could you bring me some wine, I think it would revive me."

Wordlessly Aeron rose back on his feet and dissapeared down the hall, quickly returning with a goblet of wine. Kneeling back down in front of her he handed her the goblet, their fingers brushing together as she took it from him. She blushed under his gaze as he wove one hand around her waist to help her sit up to drink and gently held her elbow in his other hand to help her bring the cup to her lips. After a few moments the wine took affect and Y/N felt much better, although embarrassment quickly washed over her at her actions and she could barely look at Aeron. Lowering his head to chase her eyes, he seemed to be assessing her condition. "I am alright Aeron, thank you for your help." His eyes positively lit up, a small smile spreading across his lips, she knew not why. At her look of confusion, Aeron's smile only grew. "You said my name" he practically sighed out and Y/N felt her cheeks blaze, at which a look of determination lit Aeron's eyes.

"Please do not tell me that I cannot win your trust back, that you will not love me again or allow me to love you, that such precious feelings are lost. Do anything but tell me there is no hope."

His voice was so earnest, his eyes so full of love for her that Y/N could not help but feel her heart concede to him, though her mind told her to remain cautious. Heart pounding, she looked down so he could not see for himself the warring emotions in her eyes. "There is hope." She whispered. She was moved by his efforts to prove his love to her through meeting with the Blackwood heir. She had barely spoken those words before Aeron had pulled her to him oncemore, her head falling onto his shoulder as he half laughed, half sobbed in gratitude and relief. Pulling away, he looked seriously into her eyes. "I will aspire to deserve this chance from you Y/N and I swear to you that I will prove my love to you."

Y/n returned home with her father that evening feeling as if a pressing weight had been lifted from her. She felt the deep wound she'd been dealt on the evening of the banquet tentatively beginning to heal, though she knew that they were not out of the woods yet.

@lovebabe18 @poppyflower-22 @ithilwen-blackwood @spinachtz @lady-callisto @twistytimesandthoughts @abookloverlawyerfan-blog @mymoonempress @alexandracgg

[lionofchaeronea]

Please forgive my presumption in posting my translations of a poet as great as Lorca. I'm trying to teach myself Spanish by reading through his collected poems. As opposed to, you know, using Duolingo like a normal person.

[kottkrig]

To Embrace The Shadow: Absolution (End)

Lucretia is faced with her own mistakes and what the consequences might be if she forgets why they call her the Shadow Mother.

World of Warcraft | Original Characters

Found Family

“Can you come home now?”

Zala looked up from Lucretia’s arms with misty eyes. The elf often asked to be held without any fear of her mentor's sobering presence.

“Yes, of course. I will not abandon my people, and I owe you three a lot for securing my recovery ahead of time…” Lucretia faced her anticipating audience. The men were reaching out as if she might slip away again, but they were too modest to ignore decorum as quickly as their Sister.

“First of all, you deserve an apology.”

Letting Zala go, she floated back as much as she could in their modest space. She took off her miter, which was constructed from nothing but pure energy, as was the rest of her; the Shadow Mother was the wraith of a mortality left behind. The vessel she mantled was the one her people knew best, and she let it appear largely as cadaverous as she was before her ascension. She refused to be ashamed of her undeath, which she never chose for herself. Failing her kin, however, was a result of her choices.

The trio watched as she apologized for her arrogance, for taking their loyalty for granted. She was sorry for seeing herself as above consulting them about her plans, and just expecting them to comply. Her overconfidence put them all in danger and left them to clean up her mess.

The prestige tied to her name was earned, but she was not invincible, and she was the most responsible for reminding them that neither were they.

“My greatest joy would be for you to one day walk your own ways, but I cannot let you go with the presumption that any of us are untouchable. It would violate our third and most difficult tenet, and in turn, undo the others. All three must work together.”

They stared at her in stunned silence. It certainly confirmed her arrogance.

“But I have shackled your growth, and you have every right to be disappointed with me.”

Zala was quick to accept her apology. Lucretia had a hunch that she was just exhilarated with their reunion, as their bond sometimes leaned on the familial side over simply teacher and student. It wasn’t Lucretia’s intention for Zala to become so attached that it might hurt her autonomy, and they would have to work on that. Lafayette was similar, albeit more guarded with his opinion. It was likely that he followed Zala’s initiative, as he often did choose to go with the flow and submit to a more assurant personality. Only when the following silence got too tense for him did he seem to add his own input.

“You couldn’t predict that this would happen. But maybe… maybe we should have talked more beforehand. We could have helped you prepare better.”

Lucretia agreed with him and was pleased to hear him speak his mind. She then faced Cletus and found him avoiding her gaze. She had supervised him the longest, with promises of prestige dangling in front of him–which she knew he would eventually achieve–but she had held him back for years. Perhaps she feared for his safety, or perhaps she savored having such loyal acolytes at her beck and call, but loyalty was unwise without mutual trust. It might have dawned upon him and made him hesitant. She could not blame him.

They didn’t need to forgive her, and she was hoping that they would take their time with their final decision. Receiving her humility was what they deserved. As for herself, she could handle any heat coming her way from the cult. Uppity Dark Clerics who thought she got her comeuppance were insignificant when she had the honor of seeing her students flourish together.

Things eventually started returning to relative normalcy, but Lucretia had to rethink her approach as a teacher. She decided to bring the trio aside, one at a time, and offer to loosen her grip on them. If they were to grow further, they needed to be challenged, and she could use her privileged position to advance theirs.

Lafayette’s anxiety held him back from progressing any faster than at a sloth’s pace, and Lucretia knew that she contributed to his sheltering. The living and the dead could walk all over him, and he would take it in silence instead of standing his ground. His success in reclaiming control of his sight tasted of the respect that he longed for. It was going to be a lifelong journey to challenge his fears, and he would be facing setbacks, but such were the trials they all faced as early as learning their first tenet. He often settled among the cult’s archives, where anyone who needed something had to consult an archivist. If he was taught on how to manage their texts, others were wise to respect someone who held onto occult knowledge.

Zala rambled on about a dozen things on her wishlist, but it wasn’t quite material things that Lucretia had in mind. They could revisit that matter at another time, so the two concluded that her role in preserving their grounds should broaden beyond menial labor and patrols in Deathknell. She had proven that she could plan for and journey into the unknown, and then return safely on her own. An elven ranger was exceptional for sweeping across the wilds with her silvan knowledge, and even someplace as haunted as Lordaeron needed care to maintain balance. It was her home, and she should be free to explore and nurture it. Lucretia urged her to be vigilant as the eyes of the Forgotten Shadow, and Zala eagerly swore to honor the trust put in her.

Cletus’s relationship with her had become tense. He fought harder than he should have for their sake, and was facing burnout as his only reward if he was just going back to being her eternal promising student. For one who had come so far, she still hadn’t ordained him. They both knew that his weak point was vainglory, and while power was what they all sought, every cultist had to constantly measure their capacity for it. Even the most successful of Dark Clerics weren't above remembering the tenets, or they risked falling like she had done. Cletus could charm his way forward all he wanted, but it meant nothing if he wouldn’t practice what he had been preaching in this time. Whenever he felt certain about it, Lucretia promised to be there to avow his commitment, and bow back at him as an equal.

She was self-aware enough to recognize her worries about letting go of control, knowing what it might cost a Shadow priest to be careless. She was proof herself of what rigid discipline could accomplish, but her students would never be able to breathe if they couldn’t reach above the surface. All four of them were left with scars reminding them of their trials, that they saw it through, and that there would be more trials to come. They would continue to face failure, prejudice, hatred and devastating loss, and she couldn’t always be there to protect them. What she could do was teach them how to protect themselves, and each other, until they were ready to walk their own ways. Their paths were not for her to decide for them, when such was not the will of the Forsaken.

It was challenging to adapt and persist through difficult times, and there may be endless time for any Forsaken to lead. But they were a stubborn people, and when those who reviled them as abominations kicked them down, they crawled back up and spat in the faces of their oppressors. The Cult of Forgotten Shadows sought to enhance what it meant to be Forsaken, and when to be Forsaken meant spiteful survival, they embraced the shadow that had been cast over them.

[weekend-whip]

Have you assigned every character a flower or just the ones you’ve mentioned?

Everyone's got at least one, just haven't gotten around to making a big deal out of all of 'em yet~

Kai: Gloriosa Flame Lily- "Glory Lily", symbolic of passion, pride, and courage; "every day is an adventure"

Jay: Blue Flowers- symbolic of inspiration; striving for the impossible Morning Glories- symbolic of being in tuned with deep emotions; honesty, trust, intelligence; "love in vain"

Cole: Marigold- overcomer of grief, good luck, inspired protection, power of the individual; unrequited love, targeted envy

Zane: Hydrangea- devotion to a noble cause; frigidity Purple Hydrangea- symbolic of a desire to deeply understand someone

Nya: Amsonia "Blue Star" Blossoms- symbolic of strength, endurance, perseverance, and determination; "there is no bloom quite like you"

Lloyd: Gladiolus- strength of character, honor, and convictions; "give me a break" "Green Star" Gladiolus- no known meaning; reserved for the eye of the beholder Chamomile- "energy in adversity"

Jesse: Camellia- "unpretending excellence" Pink Camellia- symbolic of a longing for someone, or to desire someone that is missed Purple Hyacinth- symbolic of sorrows, grief, apologies; "please forgive me"

Antonia: Orange Tigerlily- symbolic of ambition, self-confidence, warmth, endearing friendship; occasional disdain

Harumi: Snapdragons- symbolic of graciousness, presumption, freedom, power of will; deception Red Spiderlily- symbolic of abandonment, loss, separation; "Flower of Death"

Olivia: Mourningbride- symbolic of unfortunate attachment, significant admiration, and things that will not end well; "i have lost all"

Skylor: Iris- symbolic of hope, wisdom, and admiration; eloquence, and good news, "your friendship means so much to me" Orange Iris- symbolic of bravery and exuberance; confidence and vitality

Pixal: Purple Gladiolus- symbolic of charm, nobility, grandeur, and mysteriousness; "the very meaning of integrity"

Miranda: Zinnia- "remind us to never take those we love for granted" Fuchsia Zinnia- symbolic of unwavering love and dedication

[iniziare]

"I made a deal that allowed me to retain what life I had left in me. I may be sane, but one thing is certain — my mind is already at its limit…" (source: Clouds Leave no Trace)

Jingliu's deal. This entire post that I will attempt to keep shorter (as I inevitably want to set this more into stone, since I'm fairly certain on this little personal theory) will be rather incoherent, so please forgive me. I simply insist on putting these thoughts out into the great beyond. But first, let me state some things that we know to be facts (or close to it) about the condition of mara, as (sadly) these two topics go hand in hand, and it's needed for me to touch on the topic of what I believe her deal to be rooted in.

Mara-struck. Based on information I can find in the wiki and the game records thus far tells me that the condition of mara can be equated to a slow descent into madness that is characterized by an inevitable craving for bloodshed and violence. This is something unavoidable, all long-lived species will fall victim to it, unless they die before they reach the age where it will set it (for instance, though Foxians live a long time, they seem to rarely live long enough for it to touch them). It seems to be tied to negative emotions which include hatred, depression, and trauma, which also means that people who are exposed to these emotions will fall victim to it faster (ie.: soldiers). Now since emotions are tied to lived experience, this means that they are inherently tied to memories. This is really further confirmed by Blade's unique situation. We are aware that he falls into the madness of mara repeatedly, and he only 'comes back from it' because Kafka actively erases his memories (as we learned in her SQ), which permits him to regain a semblance of lucidity; take her away, and he will be on an eternal rampage. Now, I've been scouring things for hours, but from what I can tell, once you fall to mara, or 'succumb' to its madness, there is no return to lucidity anymore. It's not a temporary state, but a permanent one. As for what it is like to be 'struck with mara' during its madness, we have a specific record of this from a heliobus by the name of Dawnyng (x):

"While inside the mara-struck body, I felt a vitality that is close to madness. How can I explain it to you - just like beasts are to humans, the mara-struck acts according to intuition and prioritizes their own survival over morals and ethics. But the difference between a mara-struck body's madness and that of a beast is even greater than the difference between a beast and a human… It's a more primitive form of life, a vitality that discards even the concept of corporeal existence."

It is a madness that starts in equivalence to a bull seeing red, and yet there is an extra detail to it that makes it infinitely worse, and that is the lack of recognition. And we know this through Jingliu herself. I direct you to the timestamp of 1:35 in the short called 'A Flash'. You see a flashback of Jing Yuan witnessing a mara-struck soldier, and his reaction of shock to a specific realization that overwhelms him:

Jing Yuan: Master... He doesn't recognize us. Jingliu: So it is with the mara-struck.

And when the scene resumes after an absolutely heart-breaking scene of Jingliu (I'm fine), you see Jingliu attacking Jing Yuan as if she has not a single concept of who she is fighting, even if he was one of the people she was most familiar with. The memory and the recognition of him is entirely gone, and not just that, she attacks him with the utmost intensity and brutality, she's akin to a rabid animal. That's what this short is supposed to tell us, it shows us just how how agonizing and utterly serious the condition of mara actually is. Any way, all of this to once more iterate (and to lead into my next and main point) what those who have fallen to mara once are like, and cannot come back from. Now, if anyone knows of any information that counters my presumption (based on too many hours of research, so I don't 'assume' this lightly) of it being permanent, please don't hesitate, but otherwise, I will stick to what the game seems to so far pretty much (to me) confirm at this point. Now, this leads into my next point for Jingliu.

We know that Jingliu had succumbed/fallen to the mara by the time Jing Yuan was sent to defeat her. The flashback where she's seen to have lost her mind seems to even indicate that it may have been prior to that. But by the time of their fight, it could be said it's irrefutable that she seems to no longer be herself, she appears to be fully stricken by the madness of the illness. Now if we can make the rational assumption that one cannot come back from this madness and that once it claims you, there is no more true moment of lucidity to follow, then the deal of which Jingliu speaks could not have been something that she sought out. Moreover in present-day, she notes that the only reason that she has any semblance of lucidity is because of her deal. Now, this would tell me that something or someone sought her out with an offer of one, rather than the other way around. Not just that, but I have a bit of a wonder when I watch the ending of 'A Flash', when the Lightning Lord's strike is about to hit her, and I see Jingliu's eyes that seem to, for a moment, possibly regain a sense of normalcy (but this is difficult to tell, as I find the 'red eyes' of madness to appear as a glow, rather than an actual coloring of the eyes; and the bright light of the Lightning Lord would render it invisible in the frame in question). What also colors me a little curious, is the fact that she doesn't move, and to me, that is because what she's witnessing is an extension of the power of Lan, an Aeon whose power rivals that of the Abundance (which is likely tied to the origins of the mara, as it first surfaced during the arrival of immortality and the illness strikes when one reaches an age that the mind can no longer keep up with). The reason I bring this up, and this is where I'm really getting rather incoherent, is that Jing Yuan was sent to defeat her, and even used the power given to him by Lan to do so, and yet she lived. Could he have spared her? Possibly, but why? You see how resigned he appears to be at the realization that she no longer is who he knew her to be— no, what I think is that she didn't indirectly die by Lan's hand, because Lan is the one who spared her, and who then offered her the deal that she ultimately took. Let me make an incoherent little list as to reasons why I think this to be the case:

We know that in the game thus far, that there is no cure for mara or the mara-struck. Blade retains his lucidity through Kafka (and what 'spirit whisper' is, is another topic entirely, I can only do one muse at a time), but there is no other case of lucidity in the mara-struck once they falter. And since mara seems tied to the Abundance, it is easy to note for me to assume that only one who could undo it to be Yaoshi themselves, which means that other Aeons should logically be able influence it in one way or another (though never in equal measure). Not directly so, but offer something of light measure to counter its effects Nothing will ever control a creation such as its creator after all, but one of equal status could do something of lesser influence (such as succeed in rendering the mara unable to fully grasp you, but leave you to deal with all of the illness' other effects as no one but Yaoshi can fully stop it).

To follow up on the previous point, Lan is actively noted in the loading screen tip as: They roam endlessly between worlds to eradicate the abominations created by the Aeon of Abundance. So... would they not benefit most from attempting to counter the effects within an individual?

"But Sae, why Jingliu?" To which I ask, why not Jingliu? Not only is she responsible for having killed and/or jailed enemies that no one else seemed to be able to counter (source: Jingliu's 4th character story), but there is none who seems to hold a stronger hatred towards the Abundance . If there is to be a war between Aeons, do you not assemble and call your most formidable soldiers to your side to fight for you? The Sword Champion who is said to be a once in a millennia phenomenon, why let her perish?

... Right, so this ended up being ridiculously long, nor do I have a proper conclusion as like I said, these are thoughts, incoherent as they are. But I do not see any other option as to what this deal could be— there is nothing else in existence that can counter the mara, there is no cure, everyone from Bailu to researchers say this same thing. And yet Jingliu's case is also vastly different from Blade's, who relies exclusively on Kafka's ability. Not only that, but we also need to keep in mind how old Jingliu has got to be. We know the sedition of Imbititor Lunae was roughly seven-hundred years ago, which means that Jing Yuan, Jingliu and Blade are all at least that, now beyond that, we're aware that Jing Yuan is older than Blade (as Blade was mortal before the events following Baiheng's death), and Jingliu has some years on Jing Yuan as long-lived species. On top of that, she has a voiceline that speaks of the age that the long-lived species can reach, which goes as follows:

"…When the people of the Xianzhou live to be more than a thousand years old, each day is like carrying the weight of a mountain through an interminable maze." (source: Clouds Leave No Trace)

The mention of 'more than a thousand years old' would correlate with assumptions of her age when we keep in mind that Jing Yuan would likely have to be around 800-900 if we keep in mind that one doesn't reach adulthood in a meager 50 years of those. But any way, that could indicate Jingliu to sit potentially well over a thousand, the mara has got to be excruciating. At that point, I don't see how the deal would be with anything less than an Aeon, and who would show any interest, unless one who would benefit from growing an army that is as impeccable as you can make it? And after all, she was, and I would not for a single second doubt that she would have remained so outside of her madness (based on her strict code of honor in terms of her oath), loyal to Lan and their Hunt, just as the rest of the Cloud Knights of the Xianzhou Luofu are. I just don't see another option.

[youhideastar]

The U.S. legal profession and the OTW: a few thoughts

I don't feel that I have a ton of value to add to the conversation currently taking place about structural/organizational problems with the OTW and the way that those affect the well-being of fans in general and OTW volunteers in particular. But given that it appears some of those problems are (correctly, in my view) attributed to the Legal Committee and given that I am a real, live practicing U.S. lawyer, I thought a few comments about the legal profession and how that might be affecting the Legal Committee could perhaps offer a little value. To be clear, I am not now and never have been an OTW volunteer of any kind, let alone for the Legal Committee (a thing I really regret now!), and I do not know the current or former composition of the Committee beyond what is general fandom knowledge. I'm also super uncomfortable purporting to speak for the entire legal profession, but to keep this post to a manageable length, I'm going to leave out all the caveats and "on the other hand"s that I would normally include. Please forgive my presumption and feel free to add on or take issue!

The OTW website says the Committee is "[m]ostly comprised of legal professionals." My understanding is that it is almost entirely comprised of U.S. attorneys. This has demographic implications. To become an attorney here, you must be at least ~26 years old, for starters (you need an undergraduate degree, a 3-year graduate law degree, and then you need to pass the bar exam), and most new lawyers feel very wet-behind-the-ears and would be hesitant to volunteer alongside more experienced lawyers (much less to challenge them) for years thereafter. This means that Committee members are likely to be the fandom old guard - they remember Strikethrough and were probably around for the founding of the OTW itself. Additionally, the legal profession is disproportionately white, male, and wealthy.

The legal profession is incredibly hierarchical and credential/status-obsessed. To a degree that outsiders would probably find hard to believe. You can practice law for 30 years and people will still want to know where you went to law school and where you clerked afterward (and will still take you less seriously if your answers aren't "a top-14 school" and "a federal court"). In this pecking order, law professors are very, very high. Second only to judges. And no professor ranks higher than a professor at Harvard freaking Law, such as, e.g., Rebecca Tushnet. Even a professor at a low-ranked law school, like Betsy Rosenblatt, gets a lot of deference.

Lawyers do not take non-lawyers seriously. We go through this grueling law school admissions process, followed by 3+ years of hazing (that leaves a demographically unremarkable group of law school admittees with shocking rates of mental illness and substance use problems) teaching us that only we have the keys to understand this hugely important system of rules that governs every aspect of human interaction, stuffing our minds with a whole new language of "attractive nuisance" and "expressio unius," and then we're unleashed on a world in which people are constantly doing stupid shit that's going to get them sued, and it breeds both unhealthy insularity and a hell of a God complex. It makes us think we can do anything (like write public statements without input from a professional communications team...).

Lawyers are pathologically risk-averse. First, we self-select for that - most law students are kids who were damn good writers but scared of trying to make a living writing fiction/screenplays/whatever. And second, law school trains us for precisely that: the exams test, not primarily for knowledge of legal rules, but for a skill called "issue-spotting," which is basically "looking at a set of facts and figuring out all the million ways the people in that scenario could get sued." For many practicing lawyers, figuring out how to spot shit that their clients are doing that could get them sued and then telling them to stop it is their whole job. And it can be exhausting, because people/organizations love doing shit that could get them sued. It's like parenting a toddler - constant vigilance to keep the client from sticking their fingers in a metaphorical wall socket or running out into the metaphorical street. (See how I fell there into #3, framing non-lawyers as children who need the lawyer-parent to keep them out of trouble? It comes so naturally.) The Committee has managed to keep the OTW from being sued for 16 years (to my knowledge) and counting, despite the fact that the org's projects, especially AO3, engage in incredibly legally risky activities. To give the Committee their due, that is a hell of a track record. You can see how that might feed the God complex.

There are also, to be clear, many good things about the legal profession and a legal education. But the goal here is to give fans who are outside of this very specific and insular subculture a few pieces of information that might help them understand why this body of people is acting the way it's acting - not to excuse it, but rather to help folks understand what might need to change both within and around the OTW's Legal Committee to create the better OTW that many in fandom, including me, really, really want to see.

Please feel free to ask questions and to correct anything I got wrong! And apologies again for generalizing at such a high level.

[ruiniel]

Remember

Fandom: Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba

Pairing: Kokushibō x fem!Reader

Chapter Count: 1.5K

Rating: 🔞

Chapter Tags & Warnings: Blood, Mild Gore, Injury, POV Second Person

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V - Part VII - Part VIII - Part IX

On AO3

VI.

The path to the temple feels longer than usual. Once there, you waver. How does one make sense of all you’ve seen so far? The world, different to anything one’s known all their life, is an idea difficult to grasp for anyone. 

And if you told others, would they think you were out of your mind? The most likely possibility. All I can do is try not to be swept away by this tide of strangeness. The truth has to be lurking somewhere.

The building is silent at your arrival but for the faint tinkle of bells here and there. There are people inside, many of whom you assume to be devotees. There are adjacent huts which you heard offer refuge to those in need of it. The assembly lingers either in prayer or in wait.

You notice, for the first time, how dark it is inside, with only a few sparse lamps lighting the way. The space smells of agarwood incense, and soft chanting reaches you from a separate chamber. 

“Hello?”

“Greetings,” a kindly-looking man comes before you. “What might we help you with?”

“Is your master receiving today?”

“Oh, hmm,” the man looks behind his shoulder. “I’m afraid he is not here at the moment.”

“I need to speak with him. Will you please relay—”

“Hideo-san,” a soothing voice hails from somewhere. Despite its familiarity, apprehension coils in your gut. 

That maniac got to me with his ‘warnings’… You shake free of the sensation as the personage in question nears, or rather, glides over. There is, without a doubt, an allure to his presence, confirmed by the deeply blushing acolyte. 

He must certainly be well-loved among his followers. 

“Honored Founder, forgive me! I didn’t think you’d be in yet,” the disciple says, bowing his head in contrition.

“Please, don’t worry, neither did I! But here I am.” He takes in your features, bright eyes widening in recognition. “Greetings yet again! How good to see you! But…you look rather unwell. Has something happened?”

A sigh leaves you. “May we speak somewhere… in private?”

His smile is as lovely as it ever was. “Of course. Come, this way.”

The priest is not human. 

You smother the vexing reminder, following him deeper inside the pillared temple.

“... I see.”

You’d relayed the latest encounter with your unusual visitor, without mentioning your offering and his actions that followed, for now. There’s something in the priest’s manner, in the way he observes you this time, that keeps you from doing so. But you needed to tell someone, anyone, else you went mad. 

He tilts his head, regarding you with a pitying expression. “You’re being given no reprieve from this, are you?”

“I only want to know why these things keep happening. But…” But he seemed not to know either. Unless he was lying. And even then, why? “What I can say, is that he… confirmed your own presumptions from last time we spoke.” It still rings preposterous, even after you felt the strength of him biting into you. 

“Oh?” The fair face is the epitome of childlike wonder—so out of place compared to the rest of him, you now realize.

“About immortals, ones that feed on living flesh and blood.”

“Did he, now…? How very interesting. And what about you? Do you believe such a thing?”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore, Honored Founder.”

The mild smile persists, but now it fails to bring you ease. His gaze drops to your collar, where a bandage barely peeks from beneath. His eyes, shining demurely in the barely lit chamber, swiftly turn sharp. 

There’s nothing aberrant about the person seated cross-legged before you, the handsome man with the birch-colored hair and rainbow gaze. Nothing at all... However, upon closer inspection, the comforting atmosphere of benevolence reveals a subtle peculiarity, akin to scented herbs concealing the odor of decay. How had these details escaped you before?

The air is dizzying, encroaching, frosty.

“I’m afraid I have nothing else to share on the matter,” he says, still smiling. His manner is amiable, but his eyes linger on the bandage at your neck.

“... nothing else? At all? I’m not even sure what to do, if…”

“No.” Kindly spoken, but definite. A long, pale hand points at precisely the area where the supposed ‘demon’ drank from you. “Owed to that.” 

“W-what?” He knows? How can he know? Impossible. Your hand flies to your injury even as you rise unsteadily to your feet.

The priest is still smiling his unwavering smile. “My dear, I like to think of myself as generous, and I do my best against leaving people mucking about in the dark, as it were… All I can say is this: the mark you now carry prohibits further involvement from me, or anyone else.” He rises as well, the smile as cutting as his eyes. “... from anyone, or anything.”

For a moment, for only a moment, the lamplight shines not on black pupils, but on something else; something you’d seen before, in another’s eyes. 

You back away. He keeps watching, unmoving, hands clasped before him. 

The room grows icier still. “I… I should be going.” 

“I agree. That would be best.”

You nod, trepidation making your limbs shake as you head for the sliding panel, stumbling out and never looking back.

You pace around your home, restless and shaking. Having made your way back, the peculiar encounter at the temple is still fresh; it makes your skin crawl. What is it about your injury that made that man retreat, when he’d been so forthcoming before? The subtle change in his demeanor had awakened all your worst instincts.

You try to steady yourself with distractions. Music comes to mind, but you can’t bring yourself to touch the flute now. What you felt today was dread, not dissimilar to the visceral one permeating the air when he is near. 

Nothing makes sense, so you hang on to the mundane to keep from falling apart. You take out the rice and set a pot to boil as the dying sunset fades through the shoji panels. 

It’s all right, I’ll… I’ll leave. I’ll sell this place, if I have to. I’ll move to a large city, start anew…

A crashing sound startles you, and your head swivels towards the source.

The entrance is blocked by a shadow. 

“Who’s there?”

The shadow shifts and lurches, revealing the form of a… woman? She walks closer, but no sooner does the lamp reveal her better than you freeze.

Her bloodshot eyes have an abnormal sheen to them, as though they’re made of glass. What appear to be fangs protrude from the snarling mouth, and saliva drips down her chin. With each passing moment, she appears less human and more like a wild animal, causing your hands to tremble despite the distance between you.

“I don’t know what you’re doing in my home, b-but I want you to leave.”

A growl is the only answer, followed by movements of frightful speed and agility. You dart out of the way, into the other room. Frenzied eyes seeking, you reach for the first useful object in sight: a sheathed sword set on its stand in a place of honor. 

There comes a mournful hiss as you unsheathe the weapon, grasping the handle with both shaking hands, as your father once taught you. You’d not done this in years, and the sequences are too rusted to rekindle in your memory. 

“Damn it—”

It pounces; you scream, gripping the blade as sturdily as you can, ready for the unthinkable.

Warm droplets splash your face; before you, time slows. There is one slash, the pale gleam of metal. The attacker falls at your feet, its body split clean in two. 

The author of the single stroke goes out of stance. He looks at you.

“Stand back.” The sword is still in your grip. It probably won’t do much against him, but what else could you possibly try now? The dripping warmth on your skin must be blood, and the last thing you want is him, close.  

He says nothing, does nothing. The sight of his dark-stained clothing compared to the last time you met fills you with horror. The choking smell of sliced flesh makes you gag in disgust. 

“I—” he says, and, to your surprise, stumbles forward, so unlike his usual grace. 

“Leave me be, why won’t you just leave me be?!” Your voice might be frantic, you can’t tell. You follow his every movement, taking in his appearance: face deathly pale, dark hair untamed, falling freely over his shoulders. He crosses over the fallen body, towards you, smashing its head underfoot. Each step is agonizingly slow. One blood-stained hand grasps at his own throat, his sword still held in the other.

When he’s so close that the curved point of your blade touches his chest, you see it: a deep, long gash, slit across his neck. The blood drenching his kimono down to his middle is his own, and so much of it.

Your breaths are loud and harsh. “Don’t come any closer, stop—what are you doing?! You’ll hurt yourself, you fool—”

He takes no heed of the sharp steel about to pierce his chest, nearing all the more, lips parting to speak words that won’t come. As he sinks to his knees and his own weapon clatters onto the floor, all you can do is stare in confusion.

This curse of yours—because that’s what he feels like—is panting as he glances up at you. His voice is so weak you barely hear him, and still wish you hadn’t. That disquieting array of eyes, fading scarlet and gold, burrow into your will. “…I need… your help.”

 The blade drops from your hands.

Part VII

[oflights]

wip snip 6.2

it's wednesday my dudes!! so i have a preview of chapter 2 of my bloodweave fic Glory ready to roll as with last week, the full chapter will post on friday; i'm already super excited about it. here's a bit from that chapter! enjoy!

Gale clears his throat slightly and starts, “Further to making amends—”

“Further? Darling, you’ll spoil me.”

“That’s all right,” Gale says easily, with what he probably thinks is a very charming wink. It’s just awkward instead, and highlights the wispy black veins running down from the corner of that eye. Astarion suddenly desperately wants to ask about them, but Gale speaks again before he can. “I would like to invite you to stay the night here.”

Alarm flares through Astarion immediately, and he curses himself inwardly for growing complacent. “I’m not sure your knees could take that.”

“That’s not—not for that,” Gale says, sounding a bit frustrated. Then he spits out, “And you’ve no idea what my knees could take—but that’s not the point.”

“What is, then?”

“The point is you are welcome to stay the night in this room and do—whatever pleases you. I’ve a lanceboard set, if you’re up for a match, and innumerable books for you to read, if that’s your sort of thing. If you’d like to—to just sit and exist in this room, not drawing Cazador’s ire, that’s all right too. Whatever you’d like, the choice is yours.” Gale spreads his arms wide to demonstrate the breadth of choice Astarion has, giving him an encouraging smile.

Astarion stares at him, baffled once again. “You’re inviting me to just—stay here, with you, for the entire night.”

“Yes? And for other nights, if you’d like—I’m planning to ask for your siblings’ assistance with my work around the palace during the day and stress that they be well-rested for it, hopefully forestalling the, erm, other nightly activities you all partake in. And no judgments here on that, I know it’s a ghastly service that you’ve been pressed into, but—anyway. You can forego that if I continue to request your presence in my room at night, right? You can just stay here and—”

“Play lanceboard,” Astarion says flatly.

Gale brightens for a moment, then deflates slightly as he picks up Astarion’s tone. “Yes. Or—read. Or watch me read; whatever you want, really.”

This man is an idiot, Astarion decides abruptly. His titles must be fake, or Mystra has truly terrible taste in Chosen—there is no way Gale of Waterdeep is any more intelligent than even Petras.

“Really,” Astarion says. “And what if I want to drink all your brandy and pass out in your bed?”

To his annoyance, Gale simply shrugs. “Sure. I’ll push these settees together and kip here when I’m done with my research. Do you sleep, though? Forgive my presumption—I thought you were an elf.”

“What gave me away?” Astarion asks, gesturing up at his ears. He grabs up the bottle of brandy, too, and gets to his feet, watching this idiot of a wizard the entire time. “Passing out is a figure of speech. I just want your bed.”

“It’s yours.”

“Without you in it.” Astarion eyes him warily as he heads over to the bed in question, making a big deal of turning down the covers, kicking off his house shoes, and climbing right into the center of it, spreading each of his limbs out as far as possible. He tries not to think about the dozens of times he’s been in this bed otherwise, intent instead on pushing Gale as far as he’ll go with this.

Gale just shrugs, the absolute idiot. “Make yourself comfortable. I have some notes to finish compiling; you won’t even know I’m here.”

“Fine,” Astarion snaps, taking a deep swig of brandy straight from the bottle, staring Gale down. Gale smiles back at him, then gets up and moves as if to actually go to his desk and write.

Astarion lets him for a moment, taking another angry gulp of brandy, before spitting out, “Are you some kind of simpleton?” suddenly enough to make Gale jump.

[lestappenforever]

I wasn’t sure where to put this, but I just felt this would be a place as you are a fabulous writer and I’m assuming other fabulous writers follow you. Please forgive the presumption but I have had these ideas for fics, and I’m not a writer, not a good one anyway and am not brave enough to try. But I didn’t want the ideas to go to waste. So. In case anyone else feels like giving them a go. 1. Lestappen community service. 2. Joint time loop. 3. Lestappen (not in relationship) end up in alternate reality where they are in one… gives them ideas.

Ok, that’s it. Hope you are well and if anyone feels like writing these I give them freely!

Hopefully, this doesn’t bother anyone! Not my intention, I promise.

Hello anon! That is so sweet of you to say., and you're not bothering anyone, I promise ❤️

Unfortunately I'm not taking prompts, but, if anyone reading this would like to write one of anon's ideas, please do! And please let me know if you do!

I hope somebody will want to write one of your ideas, anon, because they're all incredibly interesting!

I hope you're having a beautiful day, anon!

[barok-vanzieks]

Dear Sir: I have been requested by the Japanese National Wine Company to contact you for assistance in resolving a matter. The Japanese National Wine Company has recently concluded a large number of contracts for grape exploration in the Kanto region. The contracts have immediately produced moneys equaling £40,000,000. The Japanese National Wine Company is desirous of grape exploration in other parts of the world, however, because of certain regulations of the Japanese Government, it is unable to move these funds to another region. You assistance is requested as a non-Japanese citizen to assist the Japanese National Wine Company, and also the Central Bank of Japan, in moving these funds out of Japan. If the funds can be transferred to your name, in your British account, then you can forward the funds as directed by the Japanese National Wine Company. In exchange for your accommodating services, the Japanese National Wine Company would agree to allow you to retain 10%, or £4 million of this amount. However, to be a legitimate transferee of these moneys according to Japanese law, you must presently be a depositor of at least £100,000 in a Japanese bank which is regulated by the Central Bank of Japan. If it will be possible for you to assist us, we would be most grateful. We suggest that you meet with us in person in Tokyo, and that during your visit I introduce you to the representatives of the Japanese National Wine Company, as well as with certain officials of the Central Bank of Japan. Please call me at your earliest convenience at 523-1045. Time is of the essence in this matter; very quickly the Japan Government will realize that the Central Bank is maintaining this amount on deposit, and attempt to levy certain depository taxes on it. Yours truly, Prince Irene Adler

... Hm. It appears that word of my digital dwellings has permeated into certain... social domains I had hoped to elude.

Pray forgive the discourtesy of my impending bluntness, but the odor of duplicity wafts from your missive, pervading the sanctity of my electronic correspondence. The realm you speak of, laden with clandestine transactions and elusive grape explorations, is one I have no desire to tread upon. As much as I am flattered by your belief in my capability to assist in such a, dare I say, peculiar vineyard escapade, I am left pondering the serendipity of such a correspondence arriving amidst the digital ether of my humble Eif-centric abode.

Indeed, your tale of entangled riches and clandestine vineyard ventures meanders into the realm of the ludicrous, echoing the fanciful plots of miscreants and rogues that oft grace the fields of crime. Your proposition, veiled in a guise of legitimacy, appears to be naught but a fanciful tale spun to ensnare the unwary.

For some inexplicable reason or other, it seems you thought it prudent to direct your proposal towards a man of the law; perhaps under the presumption that 'the Reaper of the Bailey' would be enticed by such an underhanded offer. The mention of a British account holds but a hollow ring however, for my allegiance lies with the law and the just souls who uphold it, not with the fleeting whisper of sterling. In plain words, my favour cannot be bought.

Ah, but I digress. Your invitation, though it rings hollow, has brought a moment of levity to my otherwise solemn day. The notion of gallivanting to Tokyo to partake in a financial farce is, in its essence, a frivolous jest. Yet, amidst this jest, your missive has bestowed upon me a renewed appreciation for the earnest simplicity of my hallowed Eif's musings, a realm where the wine flows with sincerity and the hearts of men are not entangled in deceitful vines.

Thus, I must bid you adieu, dear Prince, and return to the sacred chronicles of my Tumblr sanctum, where the chalice of truth brims with the rich nectar of sincerity and the effervescent glow of my hallowed Eif's enduring wisdom.

Yours in earnest skepticism,

Barok van Zieks

[heartpascal]

Hello! I absolutely adored if the door wasn't shut series- I think I've read it the entire thing four times since I first came across it (which was just yesterday). Your writing is so beautiful, and honestly the FEELS!! I can relate to the reader character so well, and they are so well written. Some of my fave parts are the angstier parts (especially after the Jesse incident and they were hiding in their shop). I know too well the feeling of not being good enough, and the fear of being left behind by everyone I love.

I'm just wondering (and this might be me projecting too), but does Joel know the extent of what he did to the reader? Like I totally get he did it to keep them safe, but he left them after they showed a bit of vulnerability (telling them they want to go home/being scared). I know he's apologized, and I know he knows it was wrong to take away their choice, but does he know that it's really messed up for him to have done that after the reader was so vulnerable with them? It sounds like they weren't super touchy-feely from the beginning, so the fact that they told them were scared. It was exactly like how they said to Tommy, about how they look in the mirror and see all the parts of themselves that was not good enough (or not enough to be loved and kept in people's lives). By abandoning the reader, Joel basically said the reader was too 'much' for them, and that their fear was a burden. My heart literally aches when I read the conversation with Tommy bc that feeling of rejection- especially after such a vulnerable moment would kill me.

Anyways sorry for the ramble! I just love this series so much, and I wanted to hear your perspective on it. And I love that the ending wasn't super wrapped in a neat bow- there was still animosity and how it doesn't feel like complete forgiveness but just a moving forward. I think it'd be interesting to see Joel's POV in all of this, especially at the end when he probs has to come to terms that he'll never 'get back to before' per se, and Tommy/Maria has most likely replaced him in being their safe space. Apologies if that was presumptive, and not what you had in mind with the ending, but I really don't see the reader going back to having that level of trust with him- not like they have with Tommy/Maria now.

okay i think this is like one of my favourite asks concerning this series ever. first of all, THANK YOU!!! omg. you’re so kind :’)

now let’s get into it >:)

i’m going to have to say no, joel doesn’t know the extent to how badly his actions effected reader! or at least he doesn’t quite understand the full extent of it. i mean we’ve gotta think like … this man was a fully grown adult when the world fell apart, you know? he became guarded, sure, but that wasn’t the way he grew up!!! whereas that would’ve been the way reader grew up, never knowing who to trust, never knowing where danger was gonna come from, never having a safe place to admit how r felt.

i’d say that when joel sorta saw that vulnerability it scared him because he was so used to reader being closed off, yk? which kinda only proves reader’s fears to be right, which is just so :( but we do know that joel consistently doesn’t think he’s good enough to protect ellie (and therefore reader too) so that definitely feeds into his reaction too. joel had his reasons for doing what he did, but at the time of them leaving reader behind he didn’t even think about how it could effect them!! he was concerned for their physical safety rather than any emotional or personal things.

i do love a bit of angst but even i’m a bit like :( when i remember what i put reader through in that series LMAOOO. they’re gonna have to go on a long journey to ever get even remotely close to joel like they had been before. but you’re absolutely right, it’s never gonna be like it was before, and that’s something that both joel AND r will have to come to terms with :(

and also NO PLEASE I LOVE HEARING YOUR THOUGHTS!!! never apologise this is my favourite thing. i love talking about this with you guys!!!

i think on some levels reader will never have that same level of trust or safety with anybody after joel. like i think it’ll have left a permanent mark, and they won’t be able to fully have faith or trust in someone again.

r’s relationship with tommy and maria is probably the closest it’ll ever get to what they had with joel, but it’ll never be quite the same. or maybe it will, but i imagine it’d take a very long time to get there. tommy and maria already know that all they can ever do is just be there for reader as much as they can, even when r thinks they won’t be. i’m sure they’ll have spoken to each other about how they’re gonna be all up in r’s life for as long as they possibly can, until their dying breath, honestly.

thinking about joel in this series is so sad, because when we think about what happens with ellie a bit later on as well it’s just so … sad. bc *tlou 2 spoilers kinda* when he and ellie fall out, that’s gonna effect his relationship with reader, too. it’s gonna feel like another betrayal, another reason that it feels impossible to trust him, even though r would be glad he did what he did. but yeah, joel would be lonely for sure, but he’s just glad that they’re both alive and safe, even if it’s not with him anymore.

i was originally going to do a part 6 to that series, but the ending of part 5 was just so … satisfying to me? like it’s realistic in my eyes!!! they’re never gonna be the same, that’s true, but there’s something. and joel would take whatever something r would give him.